The Poofer
by Calisto Kerrigan
Summary: A year after the Final Battle, Hermione ponders how much things have changed until she is interrupted by a clueless witch who thinks she knows all about Sirius Black.


This story was written for the _30 Candles Challenge_ over at _hermionesirius_ on LJ with 'barking up the wrong tree' as the prompt .

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable character situations belong to J.K. Rowling. I am making no money from the writing and posting of this story. Thanks for reading ;)

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_How quickly time flies..._

It was actually rather difficult to believe that one year could go by so quickly. One year since the fall of Voldemort and his Dark Army. One year since – well, for the most part – their lives normalized. One year since... Hermione looked up from her drink as a rather loud and obnoxious laugh got her attention.

_Would they ever stop swarming him_, she wondered absently as she saw numerous witches blatantly throw themselves at Sirius who politely smiled even as he tried to extract himself from the swarm of clingy, fortune-hunting leeches that constantly surrounded him.

Sirius looked up meeting her gaze with a warm smile and a wink. Hermione couldn't help but smile back, though her smile faltered a bit when one of the piranhas put her hand on Sirius' arm, crowding him.

Hermione had to admire how he handled the unwanted attention. Sirius smiled charmingly, patting the witch's hand, even as he deftly extricated his arm from her steely grip, before turning back to quickly introduce her to someone else in the group. It was rather smooth actually. The silly twit didn't even realize that she had been summarily dismissed.

"Don't waste your time, honey."

Hermione dragged her rather besotted gaze away from the handsome older wizard and turned to the blond stranger that had started talking to her. "Pardon?"

The older witch waved her now empty glass at the bartender, before looking back at the young witch. "Don't waste your time with that one. He's pretty but -" she shrugged, "don't waste your time."

Hermione looked at the quizzically at the witch. "I don't understand."

"You look familiar," the old witch said. "Have we met before?"

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said, picking up her champagne glass and taking a nice long drink, while hiding her smile. "I just have one of those familiar faces, I suppose. Were you talking about the Black heir?"

The older witch snorted. "Definitely the last of his line. Unless he somehow snookers some poor unsuspecting witch." She shook her head and sighed.

"Do you know him?"

"Not personally, no," the witch responded. "We went to Hogwarts at the same time, though I was a year or two ahead of him."

Hermione nodded, "So I shouldn't waste my time because....?"

"Darling, don't you know?" the witch asked. "He's chasing for the other team," she said assuredly.

The witch looked at Hermione's blank stare and leaned forward whispering rather loudly. "He's a poofer."

"But -"

"Trust me darling, you're barking up the wrong tree," the witch said confidently. "And I can prove it."

"Do tell," Hermione managed to choke out.

"He was all chummy with these other three blokes in school."

"And?"

"They got into all sorts of mischief together," the witch said confidently. "There were even rumors that the four of them snuck out of school. On a regular basis," the witch nodded. "It's as if they were on some sort of cycle or following a monthly ritual."

"You don't say," Hermione said.

"Oh, I do and I'm not the only one," the witch continued. "After that poor Potter incident, you're too young to know about the first war, but after the Potter's were so brutually struck down by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Voldemort," Hermione said dryly.

"Ahh! You young people should show some respect!" the witch huffed. "You-Know-Who," she insisted. "Well, he was so overcome with grief, he simply allowed himself to be imprisoned for decades -"

"Twelve years," Hermione corrected.

"And you simply do not just let that happen if you are just friends with somebody. It bespoke of a closer -" she leaned forward, crowding Hermione and emphasized with her faked stage whisper, "intimate relationship."

"And?" Hermione asked again, backing away slightly.

"Is that not enough for you?" the witch retorted, finishing her drink and summoning the bartender again. "I'm telling you he's as queer as they come. And such a waste too," she shook her head sadly. "With those wicked looks and that body which was built for sin – ahhh – tragic. At least for us gals, but then again, it's always the pretty ones that twink.

"Still not convinced are you?" she snorted derisively. "Well, he lives with all these other blokes, including one of his," she raised her hands mimicking air quotes, "old schoolmates. It's a regular bloke orgy in that Black Manor, these days, I tell you."

Hermione bit her lip in order to hide her amusement and leaned forward as if fascinated by the older witch's knowledge. "But I thought there was a girl – what's her name? - living with there too. Rather scandalous, I suppose."

"Hermia or Henrietta Ganger or something," the witch waved her hand dismissively. "From what I hear she is all brains, always has her face buried in book, which is probably why she looks the way she does and you know what they say about those witches, anyhow."

Hermione's amused smiled slipped and her posture stiffened. "What do the say?" Hermione asked coldly.

"That a witch like that couldn't pay a bloke, if you get my meaning," the witch said, tipping her drink back in order to get every drop, not realizing the mood of her audience had drastically changed.

Hermione's amusement quickly evaporated and she was about to give the old hag a piece of her mind when a hand gripped her waist, spinning the stool she was sitting on around.

"Darling, we've made our appearance," Sirius said, putting both his hands on either side of Hermione, effectively trapping her at the bar. He leaned forward, gently rubbing his cheek against hers. "Can we go home now? Before that mad cackle of harpies tries to sink their claws back into me. I'm all bruised," he complained, "and in need of a little tender loving care." He pulled back a bit and gave her a rakish smile.

Hermione knew that smile…and all the promises behind it. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to bite back a smile.

"Am I to be your knight in shining armor and you, the poor damsel in distress?" Hermione asked, her anger at the clueless witch quickly forgotten as she focused on Sirius' promise of wicked pleasure.

"We can role play again, if you want, Love," Sirius smirked, "but I don't think that French Maid outfit of yours will fit me." He leaned forward and captured her lips, kissing her thoroughly. "On the other hand, for more of that, I'm willing to try it on." He straightened and held out his hand.

"Come home with me, Princess, so you can shag me senseless," he said, gripping her hand tightly when she placed it in his.

Hermione allowed Sirius to tug her off the bar stool but she surprised him by wrapping her arm around his and briefly nipping at his lips. Then she turned to the gaping older witch, a cheeky smile playing across her lips. Hermione leaned forward and in an exaggerated whisper said, "Definitely not a poofer and the name is Hermione Granger."


End file.
